An Ending
by Kryal
Summary: Set 120 years after the end of Return of the King; a reflection on tales and fairly plotless. Elanor Gamgee waits at the road to the Havens after hearing word of King Elessar's death for a final farewell.


**AN ENDING**

                It was in the late June in the year 1541 (in Shire-reckoning) that a granddame sat patiently in the summer-warmed grass. She was a quite well-aged hobbit-woman, being a respectable 120 years old and unfairly hale in the estimation of her neighbors, who claimed that her family must have got such outrageous longevity from their 'outlandish doings and meddling with things we hobbits rightly ought to let alone.' 

                There was a glint of gold in her hands; a wreath of flowers, many years old but still brilliant sunlight-yellow in color and with none of their fragrance lost to the years. With a smile on her aged face that made her seem like a maiden barely out of her teens, she raised the wreath and inhaled the wholesome scent of the flowers. Memories played through her mind – her father laughing merrily, her mother smiling with delight but a little awed, and her father's friends all about her enjoying the early dawn of her very first Midsummer's Day as a proper adult hobbit. The wreath had been a gift from one of those friends, as well as a package of seeds of the now incredibly rare flowers. Indeed, in the great Party Field and around New Row was the only place these flowers could be found (with the exception of the Garden her father had planted and she had spent her life tending with a thumb as green as his own), unless perhaps some few were still scattered wild in the remnants of the beautiful land her father had described, where he first encountered them.

                Why this wreath had not dried and disintegrated into dust in the almost century of existence it had experienced since its gifting, Elanor Gamgee did not know, but the flowers were still as soft and vibrant as though they had been plucked mere moments before. The only explanation she had was that it was perhaps the skill of the giver, or the potency that the flowers had gained by growing in the fair forest of Lothlorien. They were _elanor flowers, her namesake, and this simple wreath was her most treasured possession, surpassed only by her father's garden, and the Red Book._

                Word had reached her, not long ago, of the death of the great King Elessar – whom, she was embarrassed to admit, she still thought of in her mind by the name that her father stubbornly insisted at addressing him by: Strider, or in moments of great formality, Aragorn. A special message had been sent to Elanor, who was still nominally a handmaiden of Queen Arwen Undómiel, and she had resolved to pack up like Merry and Pippin before her and travel South to Gondor, there to provide companionship for the Lady until Arwen followed her Lord, as she would, although Elanor had a feeling that the Queen would wish to see her past homes for a brief time before then.

                But Elanor had one thing left to do.

                Clear laughter told her that her vigil this star-lightened night had not been in vain, for it guided her eyes to the road leading West and two figures walking down it with the casual gait of those who have come to know the road as their home. If Stri-_Elessar had assumed a similar gait when traveling… well, with those long shanks of his, Elanor could easily see where his little travel-name had come from. With a smile, Elanor raised her crown of __sunstar flowers and set it on her snowy white hair, then walked down the hill to the road, waving to make certain that the travelers did not miss her._

                "Lady Elanor!" the tall one called, delight in his melodic voice. This was plainly the voice she had heard laughing from her post on the hill, although Elanor had known that before.

                The second, not far taller than a normal hobbit, grunted in a very stone-like fashion. "What are you doing here, hobbit-girl?" he asked with typical gruffness. "Surely there is something amiss in the world, if hobbits are wandering about in the dark when there are festivals – and feasts! – to enjoy."

                Elanor laughed and clasped her hands in front of her. "Girl indeed, Master Dwarf," she said lightly. "My white hairs seem to grant me less respect now that I have them than they should. But as you see…" And so speaking, she patted the flowers crowning her head- "…I have all the flowers I need for Midsummer's Eve right here, and the feasting will last quite long enough for me to have a bite or three before I head off to my bed!" The webs of wrinkles in her face deepened as she grinned girlishly. "Besides, I am a Gamgee, Master Gimli, and Dame Gamgee at that, and we are well-known to be slightly queer, especially us elder Gamgees, and known to do occasional unsuspected things and to be generally odd, doubtless from our close dealings with those _strange Bagginses! But I felt as though you two would be coming through here soon, and I wished to see and speak to you one last time."_

                Legolas of the Elves smiled at her. "I find it hard to see age in you, Lady Elanor," he said, "though my eyes are thought to be keen."

                "Then they are keener than most, and see that I am at heart still the little child you presented a ring of braided flowers to so long ago," Elanor said. She waved to the hill. "Come, old friends. The wind is warm and clean, and the stars are beautiful tonight. Surely you may pause your journey for a short time, to speak one last time to the daughter of Samwise?"

                "We shall always have time for you, Elanor," Legolas said, following her off the road. Gimli joined them, and together they climbed to the summit and sat.

                Elanor looked up at the sky. "It's a funny thing, if you don't mind an old hobbit saying so, that things are ending like this."

                "Like this?" Gimli asked, munching on a stem of grass.

                "I guess that what I mean is that everything is settling out so quietly," Elanor explained. "King Elessar is gone, Frodo and my old Gaffer are gone over the sea with Grandpa Bilbo with Gandalf and Elrond and Lady Galadriel and everyone, and now you two are just sort of vanishing, if you take my meaning, taking the Road past the Towers to the Havens without telling anyone."

                "How is it that you were waiting for us?" Legolas asked in amazement. "For indeed you are right, we did not tell anyone we were going, and how is it that you know of Gimli's choice to go?"

                Elanor smiled. "I was a mere youngling when last I saw you two, barely out of my tweens if you'll recall, but I was no fool. Master Gimli is going with you, Master Legolas, because you are friends, and gold has no dominion on his heart over his love for his friend. You are inseparable and each incomplete without the other. And there is ever his wish to see the beautiful Galadriel again."

                "That, and I wish to speak to the stones of that land, and see what their voices are like, if even a blade of grass in Valinor should be able to boast the span of the mountains of Middle-Earth!" Gimli grunted, clearly wishing this awkward topic to be quickly brushed aside where it would not embarrass him.

                Elanor shrugged and leaned back so that her poor old neck would not get a crick in it. "I suppose I'm just a little muddled. I've read Mr. Frodo's book, you know, and even added one or two things myself. But it just seems to be running down, if you take my meaning, and not wrapping up to a nice neat finish. I thought that there was supposed to be a proper ending – and he lived happily ever after, until the end of his days, or something. But I must have missed it somewhere, I suppose."

                Legolas propped an elbow on the knee of his crossed legs and sat in thought. "The tale has ended, Elanor," he said at last. "For we have seen its ending, the three of us. Yet forget not that there must be an 'ever after' for a happy ending, Elanor."

                Elanor sighed. "Well, perhaps you are right. I suppose I never considered what should happen in between. But I somehow feel cheated, knowing I was born only as the ending was being written."

                "Hmph. You are remarkably gloomy for a hobbit, girl-child," Gimli said, and his dark eyes challenged her from under his bushy brows. "You may have been born for the ending of one tale, but at the beginning of another, and _that tale, child, was moved on to another, who saw its end and its beginning, and on and on. We dwarves do not bandy words, but we do understand tales and the importance of knowing the proper ending." And casting his stem of grass aside, he sprang up from the grass. "It has made you a fine hobbit, Elanor, and I am proud to know you call us friends, if only through your father, foolish though stout hobbit he is! But we must move on. For we must make the Havens, and Legolas will have to craft a ship for us, and these things cannot be done sitting in the grass discussing days and tales past!"_

                Elanor and Legolas exchanged smiles but also rose. Together the three walked back down the hill, and there they embraced for a moment.

                "Forget not Gimli's words, Elanor, for though he is a Dwarf there is a startling fount of wisdom hidden beneath that beard." Legolas chuckled and ducked away from Gimli's mock-cuff at his pointed ear. "Though the Tale of the Ring has ended, there will ever be other tales to tell."

                "And you at least have seen the final ending of ours, as few others shall," Gimli said. "For it was our choice to tell no one that we were leaving. Let us fade away into ever after, and leave others wondering if we are still wandering about in Elven foolery!"

                "And remember me to my father, and tell him that I am doing quite well and expect him to be doing the same, lest he suffer my wrath when I have passed on!" Elanor patted her flower-crown again. "These flowers will be the gift of my family, I think, to ensure that we do not forget.

                "And now I must go! But you have lightened my heart, friends, for at least, as you say, I have a chance to speak for Middle-Earth to the last of its great heroes, the last of the Nine Walkers: Farewell, and may you ever find joy!"

                And with those words, she smiled and waved goodbye, before turning to walk home. And if her eyes were over-bright and she was blinking perhaps a little much as she heard their own farewells, still she felt a great lightening in her heart, as though she had seen a final light in a room that had been dusty and left alone for too long. Perhaps the Red Book was finished – but there were other books, and she had even lived in a few.

                It was quite a big thing for a grandma like herself to think, after all, even if she _was named for the elven-flowers, and she really ought to keep to good hobbit-sense._

                And perhaps it wasn't really _farewell. It felt more like __'til we meet again._

(A.N. This is my first Fanfiction.Net story, so please be gentle.

                I've tried to be faithful to the books and the characters, but I may have fallen short in places. I've always liked Legolas and Gimli, and I just wanted to give them a proper send-off. But somehow the story changed the more I worked on it. I'm pleased with the result. By the by – Elanor is still a Gamgee in this story… because they never mention the surname of Fastred!

                And why the ending? Because I'm an optimist… and I still believe in magic, in my heart of hearts, I guess.

                Don't forget, none of them are mine. The only thing I own is this story. I am not Tolkien, and I really have no claim to any of his characters.)


End file.
